


Veer

by northern



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Implied Cannibalism, People die but not on screen, Will Graham makes poor choices, Will Graham seeks his fortune
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7490172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northern/pseuds/northern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Will seeks his fortune and is offered work not suited for him, unless he changes to suit the work, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veer

**Author's Note:**

> This grew out of the prompt _lead, north, shape_ the other day. It seemed like a dark fairy tale kind of thing.
> 
> Thank you to damnslippyplanet and Elizaria for helpful beta suggestions!

Once upon a time, there was a young man, the only son of his father. Times were hard, and being a fisherman was not the reliable work it once was, so the father said to his son, "Will, I know you can find your fortune, if you only stay true to your goal and never stray from your path."

Will nodded, and hugged his father goodbye, because it was likely he'd never see him again. Seeking one's fortune is a life's work, and after life comes death. I will see him again in Heaven, Will thought as he walked down the road, his knapsack on his shoulders.

In the first village he came to, he enquired after work.

"What can you do?" they asked him.

"My father was a fisherman, and I know that trade," Will replied, because it was true and there wasn't much else he could see himself doing.

"We don't fish much here, but we do need a pair of extra hands with the hay," a man about his father's age said. "Do you think you can do that, son?"

"I can try," Will replied.

And he worked for a few days, raking and binding the hay for the farmers of the village. There were many men there more skilled than he was and few less, but he had a place to sleep and food was provided, and it was not so bad. When the hay harvest was done, he went on his way, because this was not his fortune, and the other men looked at him strangely more often than not when he spoke to them.

Will walked further west, thinking about his father's words of staying true to his goal and never straying from his path. He slept under a tree and shared his food with a stray dog that followed him. On his way to the next village, he threw sticks for the dog. A few hours after midday a man on a horse came up behind him, dressed in city clothes with a proper leather coat.

"Good day, fellow traveler," the man greeted him. "Are you bound for the city?"

"I'm just seeking my fortune," Will replied, because it was true.

"I see," the man said. "If you're looking for work when you get to your destination, I may have need of you." He leant down from his horse and offered Will a stiff card, blindingly white with soot black text. Will had never seen anything so fine in writing before that wasn't the Bible, and he took it in his hand.

The stranger rode away before Will had thought to ask his name or, indeed, give his own. He looked at the card. He knew his letters, but as he looked closer, these words were not printed, but penned with a quill. They said: Hannibal Lecter, Practitioner.

Will thought awhile about the nature of a true goal, then put the card in his breast pocket and started walking again. The dog that had followed him did not come back.

***

In the next village, he enquired after work and the person he asked directed him to the village tavern. There were more people here than in the village where he had grown up, and Will supposed everyone couldn't know everyone else's business in such a place.

When he entered the tavern, he was shown to a side room. The man from the road was waiting at a table, sipping wine. He made a welcoming gesture.

Will sat down at the table. "How did you know I was coming?" he asked.

The man — Hannibal Lecter — smiled. It was a very small smile, and his teeth looked sharp. "I had hoped," was all he said about it. "What are your skills?" he asked.

"My father was a fisherman," Will replied as he had before.

"I see," Hannibal said. "I do not need much fishing done, if any. I would however like someone to fetch and carry for me these two coming days, as I have visits and appointments. Does that seem like something you can do for me?"

"I will give it a try," Will replied, because it seemed easy enough.

Hannibal nodded. "Now let us eat."

They ate supper, which Hannibal provided, explaining that it was his pleasure. Will was to be working for him, after all.

Over the next two days, Will followed Hannibal around the village on visit after visit to the people who lived there. He carried Hannibal's bag for him and went when Hannibal sent him on errands to fetch this or that from various places while Hannibal worked. Any time he mentioned the name Hannibal Lecter to anyone, the shop owners hurried to complete the order Will had carried, and on the one occasion a herb vendor didn't have either of the items he was asked for, the man apologized anxiously and asked Will repeatedly to carry his profound apology, along with extra goods that to Will's eye seemed of a lesser quality than what he had seen Hannibal handle so far. Will was puzzled, but did as he was asked, and when Hannibal received the apology and the gift it was with a tilt of the head and a pursing of the lips that suggested that all was not as it should be.

When the two days were over, Hannibal asked him if he would like to travel on with him to a town further north. Will thought about his father's words and declined, saying that the path to his fortune led west.

***

The next village Will came to was more of a farm with two more farms added on to it. Will enquired about work, but there was nothing.

"You came from town," the farmer said, meaning the village Will had just left, he assumed. "Were you there when it happened?"

"What has happened?" Will asked, a sense of unease growing as he took in the wary glint in the farmer's eyes.

"A man was killed," the farmer said. "Butchered, in his home above the herb shop, in the night. It was just a day ago. Are you sure you haven't heard about it?"

Will shook his head slowly, his heart beating faster.

The farmer's lips thinned. "I think you'd better move on," he said. "We need to be careful right now. You never know."

As Will left through the gate, the farmer shouted after him. "Remember that nothing is lost until the third time you choose of your free will!"

Will slept under a sheep shelter that night, on the edges of the lands belonging to the farm. He slept poorly, with images of the man in the herb shop waking him again and again — how anxious he had been, even frightened. The way Hannibal had tilted his head and pursed his lips. Butchered in the night.

In the morning, his wild imaginings seemed foolish and unreal, and he continued west, following a stream. Later in the day, he came to a small road, which ran over the stream by way of a neat stone bridge. Will admired it for a while, since it was well built. As he stood there, the sound of horse hooves reached him, and he turned to see a man on one horse leading another arriving at the bridge. It was Hannibal Lecter.

"There you are," Hannibal said as he pulled up beside Will.

Will looked at him, at the way his clothes seemed almost free from travel dust, the horses freshly brushed. "How did you know I would be here?" he asked.

"I was hoping to catch up to you. I'd like to offer you work a second time."

"What would it involve?" Will asked hesitantly. "My skills are not much suited to what you do, I thought." He couldn't stop thinking about the murder. Did Hannibal not know about it either?

"I think you sell yourself short. As I mentioned, I am traveling to the next town north. It will be a week or so, with some more involved assistance than you did at the last place."

"Didn't you hear about that man?" Will couldn't help asking. "The man who was killed. In the village where we were."

"Oh, yes, that," Hannibal said. "Very unfortunate."

"I met him," Will continued. "He was the one who didn't get your order right."

"Is that so. Now, are you coming? I'm sure you can continue west from where we go next, and I have a horse for you as you see. You ride, I assume?"

"It's been a while," Will said. Truly, he had only ridden the horses of neighbors, since his father never replaced the horse he'd had when he was young. He considered the uneasy feeling inside him as he thought about the herb shop owner. He thought about the small amount of food left in his knapsack as well.

"Alright," Will agreed and took the reins for the horse Hannibal was offering him. He managed to get into the saddle with no mishaps, and they started north on the road. As Hannibal had said, Will could continue on his path after this week and go on to seek his fortune.

***

The town they arrived in was larger than any Will had seen in his life, with three churches and more taverns and inns than that. The streets seemed so full of people Will doubted they could all fit into the houses available, but still the streets were close to empty when Hannibal had finished arranging everything the way he wanted it at the fanciest inn. There was a room for Will next to Hannibal's larger one, and the staff received strict instructions about food (Hannibal was to be allowed access to the kitchen), laundry (how often and in what way) and the tidying of the rooms (only when asked for). The innkeeper seemed to know Hannibal and nodded gravely after each instruction.

They walked the cobbled streets to a large house, glowing with light despite the lateness of the hour. "I have an appointment here," Hannibal told him, "and I may need your assistance, as we discussed."

Truthfully, Hannibal had only mentioned that he might be called on to assist in a more physical manner, but Will nodded, carrying Hannibal's bag up the stairs to the door. Inside, the woman who came to meet them seemed worried but hopeful, and very respectful of Hannibal. They were led upstairs to a room where a little girl lay in her bed.

"Darling, the doctor is here to help you," the woman whispered as she woke the little girl.

The girl's eyes were luminously blue in the light from the bedside lamp the servant lit, and she stared at them distrustfully.

"I will require the room," Hannibal said.

The girl's mother bit her lip but in the end she left, taking the servant with her and shutting the door to give them privacy. The girl in the bed looked close to weeping, but she didn't move or speak.

"We are here to cure her muteness," Hannibal told Will and took his bag from him, placing it on the bed and opening it.

Will looked at the girl with her huge blue eyes. "Have you always been silent?" he asked her.

She didn't reply, even by nodding or shaking her head, but her eyes cut to Hannibal, and then away again.

"She has not," Hannibal said calmly, finding the sachet he wanted. "For about a year now, I'd say. Her mother wrote me and asked for my help, but it's been some time, I'm afraid. I haven't been to this town since last year. I have a strict schedule." He measured a powder into a glass and poured water over it, stirring to dissolve it.

"Now," he said to the little girl. "Will you be good and drink this?"

The girl looked terrified, suddenly, backing away against the headrest, but since Will was on one side of the bed and Hannibal on the other, there was no way for her to escape.

"I thought as much," Hannibal said. "Will, it's time for you to assist me. You may hold her on your lap, restraining her arms and legs for me, and I will do the rest."

Will looked at the frightened girl, tears beginning to leak out of her eyes, still without any sound whatsoever. "Couldn't we wait a little?"

Hannibal turned toward him. "This is what I hired you for. I understand that you may find some of the things involved distasteful, but I assure you, it will cure her, and better it be done quickly."

Will stood still a moment longer, but then he told himself he was being foolish. Hannibal must know what he was about. He sat on the bed, dragged the girl into his lap, her silent tears falling as she fought him, and restrained her with his arms. She seemed too gently dispositioned to bite him, which was good, because making sure she didn't kick while holding her arms behind her back was difficult enough, little as she was.

Hannibal approached with the glass. "That will do nicely," he said and bent her head backwards, pinching her nose shut with his fingers. In the end, she opened her mouth to breathe and Hannibal got the tincture into her, little by little though she spluttered and coughed.

It was like holding a frightened animal, and Will had to keep reminding himself that this was a girl, a small person, because the calm and methodical way Hannibal was working showed no sympathy at all for her situation.

"Well done, Will," Hannibal said when all of it had gone down her throat. He took her out of Will's arms and let her hide under the covers.

Will wondered if she'd have bruises. If he'd put bruises on a small girl because Hannibal had asked him to.

"Stand up," Hannibal told him. "Stop thinking. We'll let the mother back in now, and she doesn't need your distractions."

Will shook his head. Of course, no. The most important thing was to cure the girl. If she had been cured, that was. He felt suddenly doubtful, as no noise was coming from the bed, but Hannibal went to the door to open it, and Will quickly stood up out of the way as the mother came rushing back in.

"Darling! Oh darling!" she cried, uncovering her child from the blankets and hugging her.

And then there was noise after all — rusty-sounding crying which broke off intermittently as if the girl was very, very hoarse. The woman wept as well, rocking her child, murmuring sweet words to her.

"It was him," a tiny hoarse voice suddenly said from the woman's lap, barely audible. "He did it!"

The woman turned her teary face toward Hannibal. She looked radiant. "You did," she said. "You cured her. I never doubted! Thank you, oh, thank you!"

She couldn't stop holding her child, so the servant stepped forward discreetly and handed Hannibal a large pouch. Hannibal passed it on to Will for carrying. It was heavy with coins.

They went back to their rooms in silence. Will still couldn't let go of the expression that had been on Hannibal's face as he fed the girl the cure. As if she were nothing. Unimportant. But he had cured her, just as he'd said he would.

***

That night, Will dreamed of a little bird, caught in what seemed like thorns. The thorns were strangling her. And then he suddenly had a different perspective, and it wasn't thorns, but twisted, sharp antlers. The thing they were growing from was pure darkness, black enough that it was hard for him to find a shape in the general darkness of the dream. It didn't have four legs, though, or if it did, it was standing on its hind legs. And then it turned away from him, sweeping its antlers in a graceful toss, and disappeared into the dark. The tiny bird was lying wounded on the floor. Will picked her up in his hand, and in the dream he could hear her heartbeat, drumming fast, and see the places where the sharp antlers had torn her open.

The week went on much like that. Hannibal had appointments every day, and they were generally of the kind where he required Will to either help restrain people while he worked, or muffle their cries, or, worst of all, handle the bone saw as Hannibal kept watch over an unconscious man. Hannibal had claimed the task demanding more skill was to monitor the man's state, and as he had already clamped the leg, it was perfectly safe for Will to do the cutting. Will didn't know enough about methods to keep people unconscious to argue about it, but the way the blade against the bone had felt… The effort it had taken, as he did things to a man that could not be undone again.

He slept poorly all week, but especially after that day. The antlered shape had started appearing regularly in his dreams. Sometimes it was just watching him, but other times it herded him toward things he wanted to escape. There was a pile of sawn-off body parts, falling to the floor one by one, making that same meaty noise the leg he'd severed had made, and the embodiment of his nightmares took step after step, forcing him slowly into the bloody stumps with its sharp antlers, until he fell and they were everywhere around him, soaking him through with blood and getting it into his mouth.

Hannibal spoke to him often, explaining more of why he did what he did, and sometimes it helped. A lot of the time it made him feel like a hooked fish, though, being reeled in toward the boat, the painful lure stuck deep in his throat and the taste of blood never far away.

***

"It will have been a week tomorrow," Will said to Hannibal as they had dinner together in Hannibal's room at the inn. He felt he had less of an appetite now, but the bread was good and the meat tender, as long as he could stop himself from thinking about it as body parts.

"That is true," Hannibal agreed. "I would like to offer you further employment. You've shown some aptitude."

Will put his fork down, suddenly feeling nauseated.

"No need to reply right now," Hannibal continued. "Think about it. I leave tomorrow for home, a fortnight's travel north of here. I spend half the year there and half on circuit through the towns and villages that need me. I would like to spend more time with you, as I think you could learn a great deal. A lot of it is hard to teach you on the road."

"I… I don't know what to say," Will said.

"As I said, take some time to think about it, and give me your answer tomorrow. I'm sure there's a lot to consider." He smiled. "I would like to mention that I feel this could be a good path for you, Will. An important line of work, which will always be much in demand. I have much to teach you, and I think we would work well together, after the inevitable adjustment period."

Will excused himself back to his room. He sat on his bed. Hannibal was probably right, but this week had been more than difficult. He could only imagine what else he would be required to learn and to do if he accepted this third offer and went north with Hannibal. Still, this was an important thing to be doing. Hannibal was clearly helping people, even if Will felt like he should be recoiling at times when he saw that strange expression on Hannibal's face. It looked like he didn't care about any of the people he helped, but that could surely not be true. If he didn't care, why would he be doing it? Maybe it was just that he spent half the year alone and Will's company would make him thaw a bit.

For the first time in days, Will thought about his father, and about not straying from his path. It seemed like so long ago now and west such a random direction. He had come upon a path: a path that led north, and wasn't it important that he not stray from that? He felt like he'd had no goal when he set out but to seek his fortune. Couldn't his fortune simply be to be good at curing people? At cutting away what was bad in them, as Hannibal did. The nightmares would be a small price to pay, and maybe those would fade away. After all, he'd only really seen what the work entailed this past week. With more experience he would surely be less rattled.

***

As they were leaving to ride north, they heard news of a violent death on the outskirts of the town. A woman married to one of their patients had been found, her belly ripped open. Dogs had been feeding on her. Will recalled that she had bothered Hannibal — had tried to protest the treatment as too dangerous. The man had lived, though.

"Would you like to see it?" Hannibal asked.

Will shuddered, thinking of carcasses he'd seen, half eaten by birds and wolves. "No thank you," he said. He felt no need to watch a corpse so mangled unless he had to. Despite his breakfast not an hour ago, he felt a sudden pang of hunger.

"Then let us start the journey home," Hannibal said, turning his horse out of the walled gate.

For just a moment, as he passed under the gate's shadow, Will thought Hannibal's silhouette blacker than it should be, with faint tendrils of darkness shooting upward sharply, jaggedly, but it was just a trick of the light, and they soon passed back out into the bright morning.


End file.
